The Walltalkers sat down to rest and catch their breath.
"Who could have stolen the wall?" asked Mr. Walltalker. "You hit every house in town, but don't have a plan."
Roy's right, Mrs. Walltalker thought. I haven't a clue. Unless-- "Maybe it was Mr. Eat. He's always trying to protect his house with walls."
So they went off to his house, the first brick house to be found.
When they arrived, Mr. Eat was on the phone. Mr. Walltalker listened closely. He could hear his friend.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Eat said. "Oh, Sunday dinner? How nice! I'd love to."
"Okay," Mr. Walltalker said, turning to his wife. "The coast is clear!" They knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" asked Mr. Eat.
"It's you old friend, Mr. Walltalker," Mr. Walltalker replied subtlely.
"And his wife," said Mrs. Walltalker.
Mr. Eat opened the door. He had blonde hair and a lovely yellow mustache to match. He wore a blue shirt with buttons, and his pants were covered in smiley faces. He was 35 years old. "Howdy. Haven't seen you in years." He turned to Mrs. Walltalker. "And who is this beautiful girl?"
"She is my wife, Janice Vane Walltalker," said Mr. Walltalker, pointing. With that, the interrogation got down to business. "Did you steal my wall?"
"What? No!" Mr. Eat replied. "Is it missing?"
"Yes," said Mr. Walltalker. Mrs. Walltalker turned to leave, and took one last glimpse. She may never come again, but--No, she thought to herself, that doesn't seem likely. But--hey, what's that? She spotted something on Mr. Eat's shirt. Potential evidence of our thief! "Hey, Mr. Walltalker, I found a brown spot on his shirt. It looks like the dirt from bricks on our wall!"
Mr. Walltalker looked at Mr. Eat's buttoned shirt. "You're right."
Mr. Eat was shocked. "What? No! That dirt is from working in my flower garden!"
"I understand," said Mr. Walltalker. "Farewell, Mr. Eat." He still made a note of the dirt stain as they set out again.